


of assassins and archers

by ravenraiyes



Series: avengers au [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Avengers - Freeform, Avengers AU, F/M, Fluff, Hawkeye - Freeform, Marvel - Freeform, badassery, blackwidow, the100 - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-06
Updated: 2015-02-06
Packaged: 2018-03-10 18:12:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3299207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravenraiyes/pseuds/ravenraiyes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>in which clarke griffin, a.k.a the black widow, partners up with one bellamy blake, who uses the lame moniker of hawkeye. </p><p>(and they become a bit more than that)</p>
            </blockquote>





	of assassins and archers

**Author's Note:**

> also on my tumblr, @ravenraiyes :)

Clarke thinks it’s pretty damn ridiculous how she manages to get new scars every single time she and Bellamy go out on a mission.

She’s _Clarke Griffin_ , the Black Widow, notorious for kicking ass and taking names for crying out loud. 

In theory, she should be able to sail through missions the A.R.K. sends her on with ease, especially with her (slightly illegal but highly impressive) combative skills.

And he’s Bellamy Blake - or Hawkeye, the super lame moniker he’s chosen to be known by - the less popular, less potent archer of a superhero in their duo. 

"Hey!" His half-hearted indignant protest tells her that she’s said her thoughts out loud, but Clarke is pretty much past the point of caring. 

Especially when she’s nursing a gash the size of Manhattan on her stomach that seems to have no other purpose than to bleed out all over her brand new couch.

(Damn, that’s going to be a pain in the ass to get out later.)

"C’mon Blake, everyone knows you’re my bitch," she spits out with a half-hearted grin as he shoots her a dirty look, dark eyes glinting dangerously. She grunts in pain when he pushes the blood spattered rag against her rib with a lot more force than necessary.

_Ass._

He shoots her an unapologetic grin, lips curling innocently as he gets up from his crouched position by her ribs. 

"What was that, princess?" He asks, playing the damn deaf card, and she has to physically restrain herself from kicking him in the balls or from doing something equally stupid like maybe kissing him and running her hands all over those messy dark curls of his.

(This may or may not be the sort of thing she’s thought about more than once.)

"Oh, you know what I said, Blake." Clarke rolls her eyes, flipping him off with a not-so-subtle gesture, wincing when the movement sends a fission of pain through her body.  


"Hey, princess, take it easy now," his voice rumbles, eyes filled with worry as he rushes back to her side, the rough pads of his fingers tenderly pressing against her own.   

"I’ll be fine, Bell." She revels in the feel of his warm hands against hers for a slight moment before she gently pushes them away, shooting him a tired grin. 

She probably looks like she’s been run over by something, with dried leaves sticking out of her yellow tresses and the dried blood splatters in various places, but he looks _alive._

Sure, he’s just as tired and beat and messed up as she is, but, for lack of a better word, Bellamy Blake looks _alive._  

His dark eyes are alight with something she wishes she knew what it was, and while blood and tears dot his uniform, he’s sending her a boyish grin that seems to say “ _congratulations for not dying_ " along with this affectionate glance that makes her heart accelerate a little faster.

"Whatever you say, princess. Just don’t bleed out on the new couch. Do you know how hard it is to dispose of bodies nowadays?" is his comeback, but the gathering of medical supplies and the warm tone that envelops the phrase says otherwise, and Clarke cannot be more appreciative of Bellamy in that moment.

He is the person that she’d trust her life with.

There are very few that Clarke would trust with that kind of responsibility. 

(Most of them are dead.)

Bellamy Blake is the kind of man who would take a bullet for her without hesitation.

And even though she doesn’t know why he would do something like that for someone like her - someone who has more blood on her hands than The Red Skull has on his - she would do the same for him in a heartbeat.

They’re the most unlikely pair the world has ever seen; she’s a woman looking to clear her blood-stained ledger, and he’s a slightly deaf, completely lovable idiot with a penchant for coming up with witty one liners while on the edge of death.

And she wouldn’t have it any other way.


End file.
